Death by Color
by Kirei L
Summary: Goku will be the death of them all.


_**Death by Color  
**_**series:** Saiyuki Gaiden  
**warnings:** boys love, Tenpou/Kenren, mild Konzen/Goku, humor, fluff  
**notes:** For Endy, because she has the patience of a god when it comes to me.

The crayons hadn't seemed like implements of doom, at least not to Konzen Douji. _Before._

"Crayons," Tenpou had suggested, just so.

"Crayons?" Konzen had parroted, just so.

Looking back, the conversation wasn't the likely beginning to a horror novel, as it should've been. No, now that he actually _considered_ his exchange with Tenpou, Konzen could envision things going much differently. **_It was a dark and stormy night_** or **_We were lucky to escape with our lives_** seemed much more apropos. Then again, ever since the monkey had been thrown into the Heavenly mix, it felt as though every day should begin with such fitting foreshadowing.

Nevertheless, Konzen had taken straight to the suggestion. Well, as much as Konzen takes to _anything_-

"Why the hell would I give that brat crayons?"

-which, was not at all.

Tenpou had paused from his book shuffling, smiling that insufferable grin that Konzen always somehow manages to suffer through, but only _barely_.

"All children like crayons-"

"And what about monkeys?"

"-because they're bright and colorful." Tenpou hadn't skipped a beat, the corners of his smile only stretching further much to Konzen's displeasure.

"Just the trick," to sweeten the proposition.

Therein laid the problem, however, because lately nothing seemed to be "just the trick." No matter what Konzen did, or didn't do, nothing seemed to repair his relationship with the now estranged Peace and Quiet.

The monkey, no, _Goku_, seemed to find a steady supply of delight from the sound of his own voice. Or, better still, the sound of Konzen's voice barking profane things, as it was wont to do in the animal's presence. Just when Konzen thought the brat had exhausted every means of discordance, he'd be cutting snowflakes out of Tenpou's reference books, splattering ink in Konzen's hair, running through the palace halls stark naked to escape a bath.

The boy had no concept of humility, feng shui, _shutting the hell up_.

So even though he knew he shouldn't be placated so easily by a suggestion as simple as crayons, Konzen had found himself tilting his chin in appraisal, tolerating the full power of Tenpou's grin as he'd replied.

"I take it you have some the monkey could use?"

Once face to face with the product of Tenpou's "just the trick," Konzen could sourly admit, at least privately, that the one taken in by the distracting notion of crayons had been Konzen himself and not Goku.

"Colorful," echoed against the pillars, approaching footsteps and heavy boots making a recognizable pattern. "I always thought this hall seemed a little mundane."

Konzen snorted in distaste, turning away from the crayon flower mural now adorning the once-pristine wall. He glared down both ends of the corridor, but the Crayon Bandit seemed to have already made his escape.

"I'm amazed."

Kenren's roughened fingertips traced the outline of what appeared to be a yellow daisy. "That the kid's got talent?"

"That you know the meaning of mundane."

"Well you- Is this supposed to be me?" Kenren palmed a somewhat obscure human shape, the familiar black clothing and face-marking attesting to the doodle's identity. "Not bad," he added, as if his art critique really held worth.

"Yes," Konzen replied absently, deciding to follow the scribbles down the western end of the hallway. "And what would appear to be Tenpou," he added casually as he passed the other crayon-man adorned in white.

He did pause, however, to flick a glance over his shoulder. "I can only wonder where the idiot monkey picked up _that_."

And as Konzen rounded the corner out of sight, Kenren realized that his and Tenpou's crayon doppelgangers appeared to be joined at their disfigured lips.

----------

Wars weren't won in a day, Konzen knew this. He also knew that he had wasted an entire morning trying to track the now-infamous Crayon Bandit, and he was damned if he would spend the remaining afternoon hours in the same fashion.

It was those very thoughts that led his exhausted feet back to his quarters, but he had never expected to find the Crayon Bandit within the proverbial lion's den. It was always the last place you looked. Or something.

"Goku."

Grubby little fingers paused in mid-stroke, the boy's posture becoming rigid and strained. Only Konzen could make someone's name sound like a command, profanity, and warning all rolled together.

"What are you doing," Konzen hissed between clenched teeth, as if he couldn't see the vibrant wax murals adorning nearly every inch of his bedroom walls. And in the middle of it, the culprit, filling in what appeared to be a gigantic, lop-sided sun.

Goku spun on the balls of his feet, clutching the yellow crayon to his chest like something precious.

"Coloring?"

"My walls," Konzen added helpfully, in a tone that sounded anything _but_.

"But Konzeeen-" Goku wheedled, the little yellow stick twisting in his nervous hands. "It's pretty!"

Pretty. A muscle in Konzen's jaw jumped perceptibly.

_Pretty_ like Konzen's golden tresses. _Pretty_ like the delicate flowers Goku would place at Konzen's desk. _Pretty_ like the afternoons Kenren would take the monkey to the garden, and _pretty_ like the emerald of Tenpou's eyes.

And pretty like the child himself.

Damn.

"See, see! I even drew you a sun!"

"I see." How could he not? It took up half a wall.

"And look! This is us." The runt used the tip of his crayon to point out a pair of paraplegic stick-men taking form beneath the monstrous sun. Goku's mouth twisted into a displeased frown.

"Well, almost! They're not finished yet."

Goku bent down, his fingers scrambling through the mound of crayons on the floor, as if there _wasn't_ a fire-breathing dragon taking aim at his unguarded backside. He latched onto a black, and brandished it in triumph before dragging its tip against the plaster and stone.

Konzen approached warily, wading throughout a river of fluorescent wax as he watched the stickmen's arms take shape. The crayon glided down, down, until his and Goku's likenesses were joined at their malformed hands.

All of Konzen's anger, his frustration and ire, seemed to drop into his stomach with a heavy weight. It fizzled there, churning round until it transmogrified into a feeling Konzen wasn't sure of, but lately was becoming a frequent occurrence. Although a molten center of annoyance remained, he suddenly realized his want to cut off Goku's supply of oxygen had dissipated.

And he didn't even have to count to ten for once.

His palm came to rest atop uneven brown locks, and the stiffening of Goku's shoulders beneath thin material was impossible to not notice. But Konzen's fingers merely sifted through soft strands, pulling the brat's head back to look him straight in the eye.

"You will clean every mark of crayon from the palace walls."

"Now?" Goku's eyes flickered between Konzen's face and the door, likely estimating the probability of escape. The fingers within his hair tightened a warning.

"Now."

Goku huffed, and Konzen didn't register his thumb smoothing over the brat's brow until the disappointment had softened. He tugged the hair once more before release, pushing in the direction of the door. Goku hesitated.

"You'll let me keep them, won't you Konzen? The crayons?"

Konzen considered.

"Yes." The monkey hadn't accomplished any damage that he couldn't undo with his own small hands.

Just like that, all was perfect within Goku's realm. His swift body torpedoed Konzen's leg, hugging a thigh and ducking out before a hand could swat his temple.

"Thank you, Konzen!" Goku giggled, scrambling to the doorway, black crayon stuffing into a pant pocket for later.

"Goku." The monkey paused half within the doorway.

"Only on paper from now on. And not on my important documents," he added as an after thought.

"I'll be Konzen's good boy," Goku agreed, enthusiastic grin vanishing around the corner.

Konzen doubted that possible, scrutinizing the monkey-induced fresco gilding his chambers. But at least disaster had been abolished, and the cleaning procedure would keep Goku occupied for-

There, in a corner overflowing with monkey scrawl, _nearly_ indiscernible, was Konzen and Goku doing something _completely_ more intimate than holding hands or pressing lips. And although Goku may not have understood _what_ he had drawn, Konzen definitely did.

And Konzen definitely understood _who_ was to blame.

Unfortunately for Kenren and Tenpou, Konzen Douji couldn't count _high enough_ to calm that particular wrath.


End file.
